


Terrors in the night

by MissBMarie



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 03:03:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6594121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissBMarie/pseuds/MissBMarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A nightmare causes Sansa to wake the keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terrors in the night

She’d wrapped herself in thick blankets before going to bed, cocooning inside until the wee hours of the morning. The end result was a thick coat of sweat over her body. 

Then she screamed. So loud her throat stung. 

When the four guards posted outside her door came thundering in, she jumped and recoiled away from them. 

Cry, she told herself. Show them fear. 

“No! Stay away from me!” She yelled through her sobs. The cold air hit her when she pushed away from the bed, causing her to visibly shudder. She sucked in air in heavy gasps, her shoulders heaving up and down in a panic.

“Lady Stark.” They pleaded with her, these unfamiliar peon guards. “Please calm down.”

“Don’t touch me!” She screeched. Then, in an ear-piercing wail, she cried out, “The Hound, where is the Hound?” 

As if he were given a cue, the man himself came barreling into the room. He’d most likely been around the corner, posted at the young King’s door. A small band of guards were on his heels, and maids and servants were crowding at her door, peering in nosily. Clegane paid no mind. He wore a horrible scowl and pointedly grabbed one of the guards, perhaps thinking they were the cause of her distress.

But it mattered not. 

Sansa pushed by the other guards, her tiny hands snatching firmly onto the rough mail that covered his arms. 

“They were chasing me!” She cried up at him, tugging at him, shaking violently. “They were going to kill me!” Clegane’s gloved hands came up to clasp her biceps. They were warm, even though the material of her night shift. His ruined face twisted in confusion, and the burnt side of his mouth twitched. He turned his eyes toward to four young guards, who shook their heads in protest.

“We heard the lady screaming and came to her aide!” They insisted. “We did not harm her!” The regent queen made her appearance then, the king not far behind her.

“Move! Let me through.” Sansa heard her bellow. Clegane looked back to girl who shook under his palms. 

“Who was chasing you?” he asked.

“The men in the alley!” Sansa replied through her tears. 

“What’s wrong with her?” Cersei’s angered voice was as cutting as her stare. Her eyes scanned over Sansa, and her palm rose to her touch Sansa’s sweat-soaked forehead. Clegane moved to step away, but Sansa held tight to his arm, sucking in a scared, staggered breath. He held his feet,

“I believe it was a nightmare, milady.” He told the queen. Joffrey scoffed from the doorway. Clegane continued, “Of the riot.” Cersei hummed through her lips, watching Sansa with great attention.

“A terror in the night,” She said in a quiet voice, then over her shoulder, addressed her servants, “Call for a maeser.” She told them. Her eyes moved to Sansa’s hand, then to Clegane.

“You pulled her from the mob that day.” It was more of a statement than a question, but he answered none-the-less,

“Aye, your grace, I did.” He confirmed. Cersei’s eyes swept over Sansa again, taking in the crying, pitiful mess that she was. Those sharp eyes of her softened, the queen momentarily being replaced with the mother. 

“Is that why you called for The Hound, little dove?” She asked. Her fingers trailed over Sansa’s face, pushing some of the matted hair behind her ear. Sansa nodded, unable to keep herself from shivering. The queen sighed. “A terrible day it was, when my dear Myrcella left us.” Sansa could see the reminiscent look behind Cersei's eyes. She found herself wondering if the queen mourned over the loss of her daughter’s presence, or simply that she was powerless to stop Tyrion from taking away something Cersei felt belonged to her.

Sansa suppose it didn’t matter now though, as long as it swayed to her advantage. 

“Y-Yes, my queen. It was a horrible day when Princess Myrcella left us.” She parroted in a small voice. The queen ground her teeth together for a moment, considering the Stark girl. Then she sighed, decided.

“Hound,” She said, “You will remain at the Lady Stark’s door then. Payne will take your place at the King’s.” A huff came from the doorway.

“The better for it,” Joffrey hissed, “I tire of looking at his face before bed.” The maeser had finally come, making his way up to Sansa with a cup in hand, telling her it would ease her mind and help her sleep. The young king gave a mighty yawn, then said in a loud voice, “Figures, the little coward would wake half the castle with something as stupid as a dream.” He said, his pretty face twisting in a way that seemed as though he’d bitten into something sour. He turned to the small crowd at the door with distaste. “Back to your stations, all of you, you’ve wasted enough time!” 

Like dogs that had been struck the staff scurried away, and the guards in her room began to file back to their posts. Joffrey huffed at that. 

“Five men for the daughter of a traitor?” He said with a sneer. As the maeser guided Sansa back to her bed, Cersei turned to her son. 

“She is to be your queen,” she reasoned. Still, Joffrey was unsatisfied. He brought a hand to his chin, his green eyes bright even in the dim light. He turned to Clegane.

“Dog, do you require any assistance to guard one maiden?” He said with mock humor in his voice. Clegane shook his head,

“No, your grace.” 

“I thought not,” Joffrey said triumphantly. “Come, Mother. I grow bored of this.” the young king turned to make his way back to his room, mumbling obscenities under his breath regarding the early hour. 

As Sansa stowed away in her bed, Cersei reached to smooth out the covers. 

“A girl of your age should learn to overcome her fears.” She said in a low voice, pulling the sheets up to Sansa’s chin. She sneered, her nose wrinkling in a way that was rarely seen on the regent queen, “And you should seek to do it sooner rather than later. You are a woman blossomed after all, and…” her voice trailed, and she pursed her lips together, staring down at Sansa with an intensity that made the Winterfell daughter’s body stiffen and her hands clutch around her sheets. 

The queen signed. Whatever she had meant to say was now pushed aside, “But for the time, we will leave a guard dog at your door.” she said instead. She stood her full height and made her leave, “Sleep now, little dove.” 

And she was gone.

But The Hound remained, silhouetted in the frame of the door.

“I am sorry to be of such trouble to you, Ser.” She mewled in a small, sad little voice. Clegane scoffed.

“I am no Ser.” he replied. He turned away, and closed the door behind him. Sansa slept soundly, a smile over her lips.


End file.
